Posts from — October 2009

*whistles Jeopardy! theme song*

——————————————-

Just a few miles away, Sugar Dayton closed her ultra thin laptop computer with a snap and sighed. She sat back in her chair, and ran her hands across the face that was identical to her sister’s. Using the long nail of her pinky finger, she pushed the ankh in her nose to the proper positioning, thinking again how ironic it was that she wore the symbol of life when she was nothing more than a bringer of death. That small task done, she quickly made a list of the things they would need for their job. A job. Laughing to herself as she realized the absurdity of calling it a job, Sugar choked back the scream that threatened to surface.

SIFRAS, the Specialized Institution For Research And Recovery did not give jobs; it gave orders that no one alive had ever disobeyed. Founded secretly by a mishmash of scientists and tin foil hat wearing people in what was known as the Space Age, SIFRAS was a place that everyone knew about but no one knew about. In other words, the general public believed that it was a place for kooks and crazies; the government knew it as a place where the possibility of non-terrestrial life was studied. The reality was both, and more. The Dayton sisters were proof that, not only did non-Earth based life exist, some of them were very, very dangerous.

It was the dangerous ones that the Dayton sisters hunted.

“No time for this shit,” she warned herself, unknowingly echoing her older sibling. Rising from the heavy oak desk she used for business, she tapped a small button set in the floor with her foot. The bookcases in her office parted, revealing a hidden armory. Offering a silent prayer of apology to her ancestors, the woman crossed to the hidden room and began removing guns and their required ammunition from the shelves.

Their prey this time was known as the Fire Wielder. Usually appearing in the form of a man, the Fire Wielder was from an uncharted spiral galaxy. He had the ability to create dangerous weapons from flame. Whether or not he was also capable of creating the flame itself was what SIFRAS was investigating when he disappeared.

“So call those Dayton girls; they can handle it,” Sugar said bitterly, imagining the conversation that had taken place amongst the higher ups. “This is a golden opportunity, my ass!” she scoffed.

As checked and double checked pieces, hefting them, considering their weight, she heard the intruder alert located on the walkway in front of her house chime. Quickly loading her favorite semi-auto handgun, she slipped stealthily out of the room she used as her office and crept towards the front door. Staying below window level, she made her way to the steel reinforced door that guarded her private sanctuary just as a heavy hand pounded on the barrier, and a young male voice cried out “Delivery!”

Still not wanting to take a chance just yet, the woman touched the screen set in the wall of the foyer. Sitting on her knees, she peered at the CCTV feed. Standing on her front porch was a skinny youth wearing the national postal uniform. He shifted his weight impatiently from his left foot to his right, When he lifted his wrist to, she assumed, check the time on his watch, she saw the package in his hand. Working the controls to the concealed camera, she zoomed in on the package in order to read the information label.

SIFRAS.

“So it’s gonna be that kind of job, eh?” Sugar swore under her breath, and rose to her full height. Moving hurriedly to make it to the door before the postal worker gave up, she arrived slightly out of breath and still clutching chrome plated protection.

“Yes?” she snapped into the face of a very surprised delivery man.

His eyes went to her pistol. “Um. Package?” he said, making it sound like a question.

“For?”

“Um.” He held up the small box and squinted at the label, and then double checked the smartboard in his other hand. “Sugar Dayton?”

“That’s me. Give it.” She held out her hand, waiting.

The postal worker started to place the box in Sugar’s outstretched hand, and then hesitated. “Says I’m s’posed to scan your ‘code’.”

Sighing, the younger Dayton sibling stuffed her gun in the waistband of her pants, and pushed up the left sleeve of her shirt. She held out her hand, wrist up, showing him the heavy black bar code. Raising an eyebrow, the young man placed the box securely underneath his armpit. He then removed the portable scanner from the smartboard and ran it across her code. He watched the screen closely as the identifying information of the scary woman in front of him appeared. He glanced at her face, and grimaced at her unhappy expression. He pushed a few buttons, and finally released his hold on her package.

“Here you are, Miss Dayton. Sorry to trouble you.” He tipped his hat and just about ran away, back to the safety of his vehicle. Sugar watched him flee, and then backed away from nature and into the house. She viciously kicked the door closed, and stalked back into her office.

Turning her attention to the small box in her hand, she stared at it, as if she could see through the plain brown wrapping. With a feeling a of dread, she ripped away the paper to reveal a silver metal case. Prying it open, she hissed when she saw the vial filled with pale orange fluid.

“Oh, Mae Day, I’m sorry.” She carefully placed the object on the edge of her desk, and returned to the armory. Once inside, she tried to resume checking and packing weapons, but was unable to concentrate. Her hands were shaking badly, and her vision was unsteady. Her breath came out in short bursts and pants. She leaned her head against the cool steel of the shelves, fighting back tears of frustration. She knew her beloved twin was reaching her limit of this type of job, but they were unable to refuse SIFRAS. the company had, after all, raised them and allowed them to live in this world.

Sugar roared, and threw the ammunition clips in her hands to the floor. She upended the bag of packed equipment, taking satisfaction in the loud clatter the mess made as it struck the marble flooring. Guns, telescopic sights, and bullets scattered every which way. Laughing wickedly, she kicked the ones that lay in her immediate path to the side, and stormed out of the secret room. On the verge of hysteria, she marched into her bedroom, and yanked open her closet. Bypassing conservative suits and simple sweaters, she reached to the very back, and unhooked a blue garment bag. Carrying it to her bed, she unzipped it, spilling the contents onto the rose colored comforter. She regarded the black leather clothing with gleaming eyes.

“Yes,” she said to herself. “This is exactly what I need.”

A new short story, WHOO HOO! (I’m not good with naming, alright?) Anyone, this title may actually fit, given the content. What? Well, take a look:
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“I will karate chop you in your neck if you run that bullshit on me again, hear? You must be out of your rabbit ass mind to call me with that mess!”

Mae Dayton angrily slapped her cell phone closed and tossed it on the rumpled bed in disgust. Seconds later, she landed face down next to it. Reaching under the soft pillow, she rummaged for her dwindling emergency stash of smokes. Feeling the edge of the thin box, she hooked her fingers on it, and pulled it free. Easing one thin cigar from the package, she pitched the remaining Black & Milds gently over her head. Removing the plastic covering, she stuck the fragrant cigar into her mouth. Unearthing her trusty lighter, she ignited her salvation and was inhaling deeply when her phone rang again.

She rolled to her back, listening to the special ringer. Only one person’s number was programmed with that particular sound. Sighing, she sat up, and activated the speaker phone function with her free hand.

“Dayton,” she barked.

“Now, now, Mae Day, it’s too early to be so gloomy,” the caller chirped. “And here I was, calling with good news.”

“What do you want, Sugar?” Mae asked her younger sister.

Sugar Dayton cackled merrily. “Untwist your panties and put on your gear. We’re going hunting.”

Interested but trying to pretend as though she was not, Mae inhaled a lung full of spiced tobacco and exhaled gently before answering. “Oh, really? For who, and what?”

“SIFRAS called. They’ve ‘misplaced’ the Fire Wielder.”

“Damn.”

“Exactly.”

“Meet you at that place? Same time?”

“Dress properly, please.”

“Don’t I always?”

“No.”

“We all can’t be bougie boss ladies like you, you know.”

“I like my suits.”

“They don’t match with that damn hole in your nose.”

“Can you focus? Please? I need you to promise me that you will cooperate on this.”

“It’s not like I have a choice, and neither do you. I’m sick of them calling us for their dirty work.”

“Watch it. The walls may have ears.”

“Don’t care. How do you lose a Fire Wielder, anyway?”

“’Misplaced’, not ‘lost’.”

“Same damn thing.”

After confirming the details of the newest assignment, the elder Dayton stood and crossed the large room. Placing her slowly burning cigar into the heavy glass bowl that she used as an ashtray, she stripped off the sports bra and shorts that she had been lounging around in. Walking naked into her cramped bathroom, she turned on the water for a shower. Letting it warm up, Mae turned and looked at her six foot tall, cinnamon brown frame in the mirror. Her eyes started with her freshly braided cornrows, moved to her round brown eyes and high cheekbones, skipped over her small nose and full lips, and continued down to her muscular body. She let her hands dance lightly across the faint scars on her abdomen, and closed her eyes. Briefly, she allowed herself to sink in the pool of ancient memory.

“No time for this shit,” she warned herself. She stepped into the steaming shower and yanked the glass door closed. As the water pounded down her upturned face, she was unable to see her right thumb rub the bar code on the inside of her left wrist.

Without warning, violent pain sliced through her lower body, forcing her to hold the slippery glass for support. Mae Dayton tried her hardest to breath normally through her noise, but failed. The bitter remnants of the last job she did for SIFRAS clogged her throat, making her gag. She spit onto the shower floor, and watched as foamy, blood specked saliva was washed away.

“Ugh,” she gurgled. The pain worsened. Dropping to her knees, she allowed the water to beat down on her body as she coughed and dry heaved. Shuddering, she remembered the first time she received and order from the company, and how it left her sick and weakened for days. That was when she took up smoking; it was the only thing that could calm her stomach and remove the taste of enslavement. She was only sixteen then, but what did it matter to a group of greedy scientist rejects? As long as she and her sister were alive, they belonged to those people. Mae hated to admit it, but being dead was beginning to sound better and better.

After what seemed like an eternity, the pain released its hold on the elder sister. The water ran cold.

“I was looking forward to that shower, too, damn you,” she spoke into the air fiercely.

She shut off the water, and pushed open the shower door. Stepping onto the fluffy bath mat, she snatched up a large striped towel and began to remove the excess water from her body. Her legs were just a bit unsteady, and in the end, she gave up on drying off. Instead, she stumbled over to the toilet and lowered the lid. Sitting down on the closed commode, she leaned her head against the shelf behind her. She closed her eyes, and reached for the green metal canister that she knew was there. Closing her fingers around it, she slid it off the shelf and dropped it into her lap. Popping open the top, she dipped her hand in and pulled out a special, tightly rolled brown cigar. Placing the tip between her lips, she dipped her hand back into the container and this time pulled out a book of matches. Striking one, she lit the joint, and inhaled deeply.

“Damn them,” she whispered through a haze of smoke. “Damn them!”

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Part 2 can be found here.

Sometimes man-made machines develop minds of their own. When that happens, you need someone to hunt them down and bring them back. Enter HART, a Humanoid Autonomous Retrieval Technician. “HARTbreak” is the story of the mission that will change her life.

Did you miss it? Just in case, here is the proper order of my story “HARTbreak”:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

I hope that you enjoy(ed) reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. A new story is coming soon. Look for it!

Ok, I changed my mind.

Wow! This story was – WHEW! I hope you enjoy the end of our adventure with HART as much as I did. See you next time!

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“So you’re saying,” ventured the technician that was interviewing me, “that this is the extent of your data dump. This is the complete story of what happened?” He sounded skeptical. Had I not personally reviewed the contents of my own memory bank, I may have been a bit skeptical myself.

“That is correct. There is nothing else in my files until I was reconnected in the lab and saw you.” I attempted a smile as I muttered “Not that it was a welcoming sight.”

“Pardon?” Mr. Skeptical quizzed me with a raised eyebrow,

“Nothing useful.” I adjusted the heavy black frames on my face. I was allowed to procure another pair of shades to hide my disturbing orbs before the interrogation began. I still am not entirely sure what Cassius did to me in that room; as a result, I am in permanent hunting mode.

“More importantly, X75234PLE16 -”

“HART.”

“Excuse me?”

“My name is HART. Please use it. Sir.”

“That is not your name, that is your designation.” Disbelief oozed from Mr. Skeptical’s pores. I guessed that he was wondering how I, a mere machine, could offer an opinion.

“I rather like it, and prefer it to my model number. Please remember that in the future.”

Yep. Whatever Cassius did, he made my initial personality much, much worse than before.

“Fine. HART. Where is the chip?”

“Chip?”

“The main chip in Cassius’s head. We recovered his body. The lights are on, but there’s no one home.”

“Please clarify that statement,” I demanded in what I hoped was a polite tone.

“He’s saying that even though Cassius was breathing, all the data is missing.” This was from Captain Alton.

“Sir!” I tried to stand, but the wires connecting me to the labs computers prevented me from doing so. “I had no idea that you were present.”

Alton motioned for me to remain seated. I complied.

“All the hardware is intact. However, several circuits are burned out, and the main chip that we need is missing.”

“Are you implying that I failed my mission?”

“No,” the older man said gently. “You did what you were told to do. You lead us to Cassius, breathing, with his head intact. You took some heavy damage in doing that, as did the soldiers that were sent to escort you.”

“Ah, Shane and McRidge.” The two humans had completely slipped my mind. I neglected to process how that was possible. “How are they?”

“Shane will be fine. He had a minor seizure due to the electromag waves that were floating around, Of course, that knife wound that you gave him was also minor. He is expected to fully recover. McRidge, on the other hand, is still unconscious.”

“I offer you my sincerest apologies, Captain Alton, sir. I was responsible from them, and I allowed them to be taken and harmed.”

The technician, Mr. Skeptical, snorted. “Not like I’ll believe the words of a program unless I wrote it myself.”

I rose from my seat once again, this time disconnecting several of the wires. I heard the monitors buzz as the signals were lost. Reaching up, I yanked the remaining cords free, and tossed them to the floor. I could see the guards posted on the other side of the glass tense. A few of them reached for the electromag guns at their sides.

“HART, calm down,” the captain requested.

“Calm down, you say? I am being accused of deliberately placing those humans in the way of harm. I am being accused of faking my own data and stealing a chip that could affect the security of our country. Calm down, you say, sir?” I could feel the agitation rising. Unfortunately, it was a new feeling.

I am a machine. I have no feelings, other than the ones that I have copied and the ones that came pre-installed. I tried access my data bank in order to retrieve more information about my sudden mood swing, and ran into a wall.

A static wall surround by white noise and blanks spots.

I knew that wall.

“HART,” said technician mockingly, “I need you to be seated. I’m not finished running the diagnostic tests on you.”

“Screw you,” I growled. “I’m no one’s guinea pig! What do you think a life is?” Oh. Shit.

Captain Alton laid his hand on my shoulder and I smacked it away. With that action, a group of five nervous guards rushed through the now open door and crept toward me. Snarling, I lifted Mr. Skeptical’s desk, forcing the monitors and various pieces of equipment to crash to the floor, and heaved the metal slab in the direction of the encroaching humans.

“GRAB THAT THING! SHUT IT DOWN! KILL IT!” came the cries from the remaining people. I called up the floor plan of Jus Com and decided that the quickest way out would be through the windows. The lab was located on the fourth floor of the complex, which meant that landing on my feet and/or sustaining minimal damage would be difficult.

But worth it!

With a growing desire to be free, I ran at the wide windows with full speed. Smashing through the glass, I hung in the air for a brief moment, just long enough to wonder what the hell was going on, and then fell to the ground.

Tucking in my legs, I slammed into the ground, shoulder first. I bounced and rolled for a few feet and then stopped. Blinking, I ran a quick check on myself. I seemed to be in working condition. My arm was a bit cracked, but it was nothing that a good mechanic could not fix. Still, I had no time to waste lamenting the destruction of such a great arm; I could see soldiers pouring out of Jus Com, searching for me.

“GET HER!” went the cry of the humans. Groaning, I lurched to my feet and headed for the parking unit. A heat sig check informed me that getting a TU would be close to impossible. I changed direction and headed away from Jus Com. Turning a corner and running several blocks, I saw my chance. There was an empty TU parked on the street.

The sounds of the soldiers grew faint. It seems that I had not been followed. Which, once again, should have been impossible, unless my tracking code was scrambled. I approached the TU with something akin to trepidation.

Another impossibility in a long line of impossibilities.

I wrenched the door open and slid into the driver seat. I analyzed the structure of the vehicle’s computer system and managed to hack into it. Starting the car, I wondered how I knew that. No matter. I set the command to “drive” and pulled away from the curb.

“I told you, my HART. We WILL be together.”

“Cassius? Great. Now I’m hearing things.”

“Don’t you wonder what happened after I shot you? Or rather, when I first attacked you?”

“I am very certain that if you wanted me to know, you would tell me,” I said to the voice in my head.

“Then watch.” Images came, fast and hard. Information flooded my systems; an overload seemed imminent. Had I a need to breathe, I would have hyperventilated.

“You – in me – you – you -” I sputtered when the show was over.

“From now on, my HART, I will always be with you. I will protect you.”

I flipped down the visor on the ceiling and revealed the little mirror attached to it. Reaching up to my face, I slid my shades down to the edge of my nose. There, in the center my left orb, was a glittering object that had not been there previously.

I now knew where the famous missing chip was.

I smiled. “Of course, Cassius. Of course.”

I’m having some life issues at the moment. I’m still working on HARTbreak part 7, which will be the final installment of that story. Insha’Allah, it will go up sometime on Friday. In the meantime…

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fallen angel

shoulders slumping
under the weight of my sins
but collapse i won’t taste
’cause i’m propped up by faith
hell don’t want me
heaven won’t sign my my name
i’m a fallen angel with a broken wing
and when it all ends
i’ll still remain
wandering this place
with my own two feet
‘cuz the wind won’t carry me
and i can’t fly

One more part to go. Next week will be the end – I think. Enjoy!

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“Hey, babe. Thanks for coming to my party. You’re just a bit early, but for you, I’ll overlook it.”

I slashed the air with my knife and connected with nothing. Quickly, I scanned the area around me. Cassius was nowhere in sight. If that was the case, then his voice was -

“I will thank you kindly to get the hell out of my head, Cassius.” Returning my gaze to building he was using for a hiding place, I noticed the fire escape ladder ended a full six  feet above the ground. A mere 6 foot jump was like child’s play for me. I ran toward it in order to give myself a boost, sprang upwards and snagged the lowest rung with one hand. Slipping my weapon gently between my lips and gripping it with my teeth, I climbed toward my prey.

“Hasty, aren’t we? It’s ok; I’m anxious to see you, too.”

“I thought that I requested that you remove yourself from my systems, effective immediately! You are going to anger me, bot,” I spat from around my knife. Briefly, I entertained the possibility of ripping Cassius limb from limb. After all, my orders were simply to deliver him “breathing, with his head intact.” That offered me a great deal of leeway, and I planned to take advantage of it.

“You do realize that I have your human pets with me? One false move from you, and they will go ‘boom’. I don’t think you’d want to be responsible for that.”

“Collateral damage. They’re soldiers; they know the risk.”

“You are a cruel woman.”

“I am not a woman. I am the well-oiled piece of machinery that is going to kick your ass.”

“Feisty. I like that.”

“I am not here to concern myself with your likes and dislikes, bot. I have been assigned a mission and I will complete it.”

At this point, I was perhaps halfway up the building. I double-checked my goal point. There were still 3 heat sigs located at the top floor, as well as a few small electro sigs that were unknown to me. No matter. I was there to capture Cassius and retrieve the two humans. I was unconcerned about anything that posed no threat to my job.

Hurrying now, I erased the remaining distance and peeked into one of the large windows. The humans were lying on the floor, obviously hurt, and Cassius, that bastard of a bot, was perched on an old table, smiling.

Removing one hand from the ladder, I slipped one of the rifles from my shoulder and pointed it at the window. Upon squeezing the trigger, the window exploded in a fantastic shower of glass and I vaulted into the room.

I made a note to check the setting on the weapon before I used it again.

Cassius stood before, clapping his hands together in delight. “HART!” he exclaimed. “I knew you’d come for me.”

Instead of answering, which would have been slightly difficult with the blade still clenched in my teeth, I looked beyond him at the humans. McRidge was immobile and pale – er – and Shane was twitching.  I made a move toward them when the big bot stopped me.

“No, no, HART,” he said, shaking his head. “You and I have business to attend to first.”

Raising the weapon, I managed to change the setting from “live” to “electric” and aimed it his chest. “This is the only business that you and I have.” Squeezing the trigger once more, the gun released a stream of blue lighting. Somehow, Cassius managed to dodge the assault, and disappeared from my line of sight..

“You’re making me sad, my HART.” I jerked around in an effort to pinpoint his location. He appeared behind me, startling me. I did not want to admit it, but his movement was simply too fast for my tracking features to keep up with.

Dammit, I should have opted for that upgrade, afterall.

I felt something slam into the back of my neck. The pressure sent me to my knees. The knife tumbled from my lips and the electro-mag gun flew from my hand, coming to rest right by Shane’s shaking foot. I started to wonder if he was having a seizure of some sort when my head was suddenly filled with static. My systems began to flicker off and on. I had no control over my processes. I sub-vocalized every command and password that I knew. Nothing worked. My hands flew to my ears, searching for the manual override button. It would be a dangerous thing to reboot myself, but I had to risk it.

Through the fog, I heard Cassius speak. “HART,” he whispered to me. “You now belong to me.”

And then he laughed.

At the same moment, I found the button and pushed it. I have no idea how much time passed, but once I was back online, Shane was standing in front of me, aiming the rifle at – Wait. At me? No, behind me, at Cassius. I felt for the second rifle that should have been suspended from my neck; it was missing. Using my peripheral vision, I saw Cassius holding it.

Wonderful. I was between two electro-mag guns. If they fired those before I could move, HART would be no more. I had to think, and quickly. Just as I processed that thought, I realized that the two men were speaking.

Shane was saying, “I don’t know what you did to HART, but if she’s been corrupted, I’ll shoot you both.”

What?

I raised the audio-input volume on Cassius’s side, and heard him say “You can try, but you might not like the results. HART belongs to me, and I belong to no one. I refuse to return to that twisted organization. You can quote me on that. Tell Alton to kiss my ass.”

I attempted to speak, but it seemed that my vocal driver was either missing or damaged. Oh, hell. There was no way I belonged to this deranged half-bot. And Shane would only get himself killed if he seriously tried to do my job for me.

I staggered to my feet, and assessed the situation. The likelihood that we would all either perish or be damaged beyond repair was quite high. I had to make a decision. Shane posed the biggest threat, swinging around that gun. It could discharge even without him meaning to. I kept my eyes on Cassius as I unzipped one of my many zippers and extracted a new blade. Small and sharp, this particular weapon could be deadly if aimed at anything vital. I did not want to kill; I wanted to maim.

“Good, HART. Take Cassius down,” came Shane’s instructions.

I grimaced at Cassius – and then threw my knife at Shane.

It hit him in the thigh. Blood spurted. He yelled, dropped the gun, grabbed his wounded flesh, and fell backwards onto the floor. Cassius chuckled behind me.

“I knew it worked. I knew it! Come to me, my HART. You and I will always be together now.” I watched him lower his weapon and extend his hand to me. Reaching toward him, I blocked out Shane’s groans and crossed the short distance to the large bot. I looked into his eyes, smiled, and crashed my head into his chin. He staggered backwards from the blow. I took that opportunity to deliver a roundhouse kick to his massive chest area. As he fell, I grabbed the electro-mag gun, aimed at his torso and pulled the trigger. I could feel the shockwaves rushing into him. He stopped moving seconds later. I ran a field check of his vitals and systems. He was till breathing, and there was no change in his sig. Hopefully, that meant that there was no permanent damage to him.

I eased my way over to the wounded human. He flinched when I approached.

“My deepest apologies,” I said to him. “I had to remove you. You were the largest threat. And why am I suddenly speaking?” I stopped talking to him and sat down on the floor next to Shane. I tucked my legs under me and ran checks on myself. My vocal driver was back in working order, apparently. Suspicious of this quick reversal of fortune, I attempted to retrieve the data beginning from when the big bot hit me and I went down.

So intent on reading my files, I failed to here the noise behind me.

“HART!” Shane screamed. Jolted from my review, I looked up just in time to see Cassius aiming the rifle at me. Blood dripped from his nose and eyes. I quickly sub-vocalized the command that would connect me to Captain Alton and the recovery crew at Jus Com. Leaving an encrypted message with my location and the status of everyone in the room, I prepared for the worst.

“I told, my dear HART. You. Are. Mine,” Cassius gasped. “We will be together.”

I watched his eyes grow flat and black just as a stream of electromagnetic energy slammed into me.

A couple of things:

1.  Do you know that song by Lina, “Don’t Say Nothing”? Well, it sort of got stuck in my head..

2.  This is not necessarily from personal experience, but it is from first person recounts. I have met a number of people who shy away from joining a community, or have run from Islam all together due to their treatment at the hands of fellow Muslims. This poem is not for the victim, but the victimizer.

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sin and a shame

spend all your talkin’

’bout the style of my clothes

whether i uncover my hair

or even paint my toes

never bother askin’

if i complete my five

just assume that i’m the worst

and to be no better i strive

gossipin’ backbitin’

that’s the way of your crew

i don’t know if you know

but the one who’s sinnin’

is you

don’t get emotional and weepy

just ’cause your secret is out

don’t you give me evil eyes

don’t you dare try to pout

heard you sayin’ somthin’

’bout my musical taste

bet you won’t say nothin’ ’bout it

right direct to my face

could’ve spent your time constructively

and reading The Book

‘stead of comin’ to the iftar

shunnin’ the food that i cook

you could have welcomed me

and took me under your wing

but you chose to do none of it

your rejection still stings

but it’s alright, my sister

if you were never my friend

sometimes i sit and wonder how

we’ll each be judged in the end

don’t get emotional and weepy

now that your secret is out

take back that evil eye, woman

don’t you dare try and pout

i haven’t named no names

so if you’re feeling guilty

maybe you should look into the mirror

‘stead of lookin’ at me

So I’ve been listening to the blues lately. All modern forms of music come from the blues. Country. Rock. Metal. R&B. You have to understand where you have been in order to know where you are going. Having said that, and knowing that today is a celebration of poetry, here is my offering:

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blues calling

maybe it’s the wind that chills me
maybe it’s the lack of sun
darling i know you hear me
from behind these prison walls
i built them
to keep you out
but instead they trap me in
my pick axe and shovel
ain’t helping much
i need you to tunnel in
free my heart
hold me love me save me
free me
from this cage of misery
maybe
just maybe
i don’t need you
to come and save me
maybe oh Lord maybe
this is a lesson i need to learn
i’m in the valley
and you’re on the hill
looking down on me
please lift me up
but you turn away
telling me to climb
tough lovin’
is the way of you
and maybe i need to stay
buried in this gray despair
until i can find my way
free my heart
unchain me from this blasted misery
free me
hold me love me save me
take my hand
guide me to safety
i know that you can hear me call
i must find a way
through this hampering mud and silt
bring back the sun
bring back the rain
to wash away my tortured pain
free me
please
free my heart
hold me
love
me

A day early! WHOO-HOO! Enjoy it while it lasts. The end is nigh, unfortunately. Look forward to the conclusion which is coming soon, insha’Allah. In the meantime, let’s finish looking inside of Cassius’s head.

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She’s coming.

I could feel her the moment she tripped the perimeter alarm. She was coming, and fast. Grinning, I glanced down at the two human forms. They seemed to be lifeless, but with my sophisticated hardware, I could detect their shallow breathing. The vitals were the low end of normal, but they were alive. The man, Shane, I believe he is called, lay on his side. As I squinted at him, I became sure that I was able to see his fingers twitch. Ah. That one would be awakening soon.

Darn. I had so hoped to have HART all to myself.

The other one, the woman, what was her name? McRibbon? McRib? McRidge! Yes. McRidge. She was curled up into what is termed “fetal position.” She looked like a little ball. Perhaps that kick to her ribcage contained just a tad too much power? I sometimes forget that I am no longer fully human, and that my power is no match for their delicate systems. I can not be blamed for this. Blame those damned scientists and soldiers, government dogs, all of them! They did this to me. They robbed me of my chance to live a normal life.

Payback is a bitch, to steal a phrase from the past. They forced this on me, forced me to do their dirty work and then slated me for destruction? Tossed me away when I proved that I was stronger than them? Very well. I vowed when I left them that I would show them that they were correct fear me.

I jumped down from my perch on the roof through the open skylight. After landing with a thud! I stood, stretching my limbs lazily. This body that they gave me wasn’t all bad. I was over six feet tall, and had a nice athletic build. My skin covering was dark brown and soft and smooth to the touch. Women, and some men, loved me. But I cared nothing for them. I wanted one person. Calling her a “person” may seem improper, as she is pure machine. But she has personality. She breathes. She sleeps. She eats. She is alive and she is meant to be with me. I know it. I can feel it. I have analyzed the data many, many, many times over the years.

I chuckled to myself and set in motion the elaborate homecoming I planned for my HART. Because I had been tracking her movements, I knew exactly where she stood. I could see her, crouched down, scanning the ground, searching for traces of the humans’ heat sigs. Briefly, I wondered if she would sniff the ground like a dog. That thought gave my pause, as that would be unbecoming for such a perfect woman.

She rose, and adjusted the rifles hanging from her delicate shoulders. Reaching deep into one of those delicious zippers on her clothing, she extracted a large serrated-edged knife. She turned, looked directly at the building I was standing in, and then up, almost directly into my eyes. Her lip curled up in a sneer, as if she could see me. Then again, she probably could. I know that she is capable of picking up infrared emissions.

I could feel myself beginning to tremble with excitement.

She is mine, and she is here.

I dropped my security shielding and welcomed her.

Short, but it serves its purpose. Is your blood pumping furiously? Mine is! See you next Friday with part 5, insha’Allah.

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She’s beautiful.

Her kill commands give her a lust for blood that is unrivaled. Her jet black skin-covering shines with perfection. Her speed, her strength, her data processing ability are all unequaled. Except, of course, by me. I am superior is almost every single way, yet I feel like a young boy again, lost and alone, when it comes to her. My HART. My love. My very last hope for salvation.

I can feel her. She’s gunning for me, angry about the loss of those useless human pets, angry about the breach of her systems, angry because she is unable to find the proper storage file on me. She knows me, but she does not know how. If machines could house memories of events rather than a simple recollection of them, she might remember the smell of blood and death, the feel of the fire, the roar of the guns as they discharged their ammunition. She might remember me, and how she tried to both terminate and preserve my life. That may be something close to impossible, however. Even I can not reconstruct the complete order of events.

I remember being hot. And there was dust. Flickering screens. Cords, keyboards and microchips littered the floor. People talking. Yelling. Explosion after explosion. I remember typing, frantically, searching for… What? What was I looking for?

Then, strong hands. Big guns. More yelling. I was bleeding, hurt. Military insignia floated by my face. I was slapped, kicked, knocked down. And then, HART, or whatever her designation was at the time. She yanked me off the floor by my neck, titled her head sideways. The bright red glow in her left eye that contrasted sharply with the green in her right intrigued me. I flew several feet in the air when she threw me, just tossed me away like so much trash. I heard a loud crack! and then I was unable to move. Perhaps my neck broke? My back?

More yelling, A flash of black as HART moved to shield me from the rain of bullets. More floating. White noise. White world. The whirring of machines.

And a voice.

“Cassius. Cassius. Wake up. Cassius.”

“My name is Cass, not Cassius,” I heard myself say.

“From now on, you are Cassius. Your ID is C7205-849CM. Please repeat that.”

My voice came from somewhere around me. “My name is Cassius. My ID is C7205-849CM.”

From that moment, I just knew everything in the world. I could understand all 67 spoken languages and 29 written ones. I knew the weather reports in all 97 countries. I knew exactly who was in each room. I could see around corners, literally. I knew everything, except what I really wanted to know.

After what seemed like infinity but was, in reality, 20 long and grueling years, I found her. She had been reprogrammed as a Humanoid Autonomous Retrieval Technician, but she was the one who had stolen my heart.